“Do either of you know where we are?” Fiona asks.
“All doors...” “...to the Weave...” “...are different...” “...every day.”
“Oh that's helpful!”
The way ahead is darker than before, but the faint noise and smells are enticing.
“Come on then,” she says, “let's go and see where we are.”
They follow the tunnel into a curve. As they round it, she sees there's little distance to its end and bright lights beyond.
Growing closer, unclear noise fills the air: music and voices, shouting and talking, sizzling and banging and all manner of strange hubbub.
